Storms
by Dissidia180
Summary: Ruffnut and Tuffnut are always in trouble, but that doesn't mean they get used to being told off by their parents. One-shot.


_Hey everyone! I'm back with a quick one-shot. You know when you do something when you're young and your parents or carers get angry, but you just don't see the point of it? The unjust nature just really annoys you, right? Well, If your family get that angry at you over nothing, they obviously don't love you enough to care. Well, actually, they do, those are all just things that you're thinking at the time. I know how it feels (Don't get me wrong, being 17 now these things tend to stop, and I love my family). But how would Ruffnut and Tuffnut react? Well, read on to find out!_

_As for my other stories, at the moment, keep checking my profile for updates. If it's going to be massively late, I'll be sure to let you know on my profile. _

"Stupid girl! What on earth were you thinking? Do you think you're funny? Clever? Well?" The enormous Viking loomed over his daughter, scraggly white-blond hair knotted into his long, braided beard. His impressively muscular arms dug into the hunting belt at his hips. His red face was furious.

When she didn't reply, he snarled again, his voice booming like thunder, "Well?"

The girl before him stared solidly at her feet, determined not to do anything but stand rigid and still, her jaw clamped shut. Her lips trembled slightly. She could feel his eyes boring into her like fiery, red-hot pokers, making her cheeks burn with them. Finally, her father folded his arms, snorting, and stormed out of her room, slamming the door behind him with the force of a gale.

There was a moment, like the calm at the centre of a storm, where Ruffnut looked about the tiny room, reeling from the experience, twisting her long, platinum-blonde braids between her fingers, as she always did when she was stressed. She noted the two single beds, the clothes strewn in messy piles about the place and the thick, yak-skin rugs that lined the polished wooden floor. She looked through the windows on either side of the room and at the patterns carved deeply into the roof-beams. She could imagine the strokes used to create them, the sharp tools cutting in raggedly. It felt as though the same method was being used to create the pain she felt in her chest.

All of a sudden, the tears began to fall. She didn't try to stop them; there was no point. The rest of her family were long gone and her father couldn't hear her. The streams burned as they slid down her cheeks, blurring her vision, disappearing beneath her chin, running over her high cheek-bones and past her slightly pushed-in nose. She coughed out ugly, angry sighs, hanging her head, wrapping her arms around her skinny waist.

The anger came next, bubbling like a cauldron inside her as she sank to her knees, slumping sideways. How was it her fault? Why did he care? She didn't mean to hurt anyone, all she wanted was a little fun. If she caused trouble while doing that, well, that wasn't her fault. If anything, it was an added bonus. However, her family, particularly her father, didn't see it that way. They blamed her whenever she and her twin brother got into trouble because they thought she was meant to be the more responsible one. Well, it just wasn't true.

Her father hadn't forgotten his son, but Tuffnut usually got off lightly because he would argue back, becoming just as angry as his father. It wasn't fair.

"It's not fair..." She croaked, fingers gathering into fists, shoulders shaking with injustice. Just because she wouldn't stand up to him, he thought he could push her around. Mother never acted like this. She was past worrying about her children and their crazy schemes. She heaved a yak-skin rug up from the floor and tossed it angrily, not because it was creating a problem, just because it made her feel better. She did the same with the other, almost putting it through the window, and then set about slamming her fists into anything that she could, her bed, the walls, the piles of rug.

Finally, her anger vented, she threw herself heavily onto her bed and curled up to cry, letting the tears run down the sides of her face, some from one eye to the other, some threatening to go up her nose. She coughed them away, closing her eyes, losing herself for a while, until she breathed a deep, clear sigh. Her thoughts felt cleansed, like the night air after heavy rain. She began to think about it another way. Her father was just stressed, like he always was. He'd probably just had a really bad day, or he'd argued with someone, or someone had argued with him. Maybe his fishing that morning went badly. Maybe he was just in a foul mood anyway.

She didn't hear the door open, nor notice when the light of a window was blocked out. She only noticed the presence of her brother when she heard his overly-loud voice.

"Whoa, sis, you okay? Looks like a storm's hit in here," he observed, looking about. Ruffnut sat up like a shot, trying to roughly brush away her tears, but it was no use; even if he hadn't seen them, he'd just know. "Let me guess. Dad?"

"Who else?" She replied in her gravelly voice, thicker than usual. Her nose was blocked. She sniffed, wiping it on her sleeve.

"He just yelled at me, too. He's a pig sometimes..." The brother growled, perching on the edge of his sister's bed. She flopped back down onto her side, staring at the wall.

"It's not his fault. He's just stressed right now." She argued.

"Doesn't give him the excuse to hurt my sister like this."

"Give it up, you dunce, you don't actually care. Besides, I don't really care either. He can shout as much as he likes, it's not going to stop us, right?" Her eyes met his.

"Right..." He stared at the floor for a while, and then scowled. "I do care. Of course I care."

"Of course you do." Her tone was scornful. She didn't look up, kept her ice-blue eyes on the wall. He frowned again.

"Don't tell me you're in a mood too. Stop being moody, sis, it doesn't suit you."

"Suits me just fine..." She sighed deeply, rolling over and closing her eyes. Her brother leant back against her, resting his head against her ribs. After a moment, she pulled his helmet off his head. "You're not stabbing me in the ribs if you're going to do that."

"Hey, see if you can get it on my bed from here." Her twin challenged.

"Too easy!" She shot back, tossing the metal lump across the room. It hit the bed, bounced off and crashing into the corner, along with their carpets. "Oh, come on!"

Taking her helmet, Tuffnut sat up just long enough to throw it and land it perfectly on his own bed. Then, he wrapped his outstretched arm around his sister, trying to make it seem casual, though it was obviously not. She didn't protest, simply ignored him as much as possible, seething slightly.

"Don't listen to what Dad says. He doesn't know what he's talking about, especially when he's angry." Tuffnut was trying to a sound sophisticated, but his lilting tone somehow didn't allow it. Ruffnut bit her lip, comprehending the trouble her brother was going to to make her feel better.

"You're right," she replied feebly, "Thanks, Tuff."

He sat up swiftly, a smirk on his face. "Wanna go blow things up with Barf and Belch?"

"Absolutely"


End file.
